Agree, and I Must Be Wrong
by ConfirmedBachelor
Summary: In order to make a fine mess of oneself, one must find the correct partner to make the aforementioned mess with. / Warning: Slash, eventual smut, language, violence, and the occasional nude elf. M!Warden/Zevran
1. Prologue: Turn Wine into Water

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Dragon Age, or any of the characters in this story (other than Lysias and Alosio, of course), they were created by BioWare. :)

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><p>It burned – so deep in my veins that my heart became discontent and turned to erratic beats that wanted to burst from my chest. My eyes clouded behind what I figured to be a blindfold, or something of the sort – something that either made it so I couldn't see what was happening, or to heighten my senses even more so that it hurt all the better – it didn't matter. I couldn't even find my voice anymore; I had screamed so much—so much that I could still hear it echo in my pointed ears, hidden behind layered flicks of brown hair, probably disheveled because of such rough play. I took a brief moment to feel a strand of my bangs brushing my nose, which twitched as I held back a sneeze.<p>

I felt the sharp end up the staff trail down my abdomen, so the left vallaslin was traced, telling me where he was going to work on next, or rather, teasing me. Three tribal lines curving just nearly past my hip bones; sometimes I regretted not choosing not choosing a deity during the ritual, though, my keeper always said that I was stubborn – then again, what Orlesian elf wasn't, city or otherwise? The metal of the staff warmed against my skin until it burned worse than the blood writing did when I first got it, and despite my lack of vision, I knew what was happening, my Master taunted my by telling me what he was going to do. He was making me a gatherer for the blood he needed for his blood magic – then he didn't need to harm himself, and he had a better use for me other than housework and sex. I shrieked, the clang of the restraints on my legs sounding as I tried to kick my legs, but it only made it worse. My hips jerked, and the feeling dug deeper, into my bone, and I wasn't surprised when part of my leg went numb.

"That'll only make it worse, my little pet. Stay still and it'll be over quicker." I heard him speak, and my blood boiled, the markings burning in my anger, and my eyes swelled. I didn't think I could really cry anymore. I bet the blindfold was drenched; not that I could tell anymore, myself, most of my feeling had begun to leave me.

The next blood, the one sitting on the other side of my stomach, was given the same treatment – the sting making me whimper little sounds because I didn't want to use to much of my voice anymore – and then I was turned over on to my back, and the marking around my shoulder blades were given the same horrid treatment – lying on my stomach made all of the ones on my front hurt worse – I felt the need to note. When the blind fold was removed, I stared, glossy eyed at the aged man before me, the smirk on his face making me was want to spit, but he grabbed my face, tracing his finger along the three remaining tattoos that half way wrapped about my eye.

"You're not done yet."

Sometimes, I felt that everything happened for a reason, well, anything important to my elvenly functioning – if that was such a thing anymore. Slaves didn't have much of a life. Most were hollow shells that took in – in more ways than one – what their Master told them to do or did to them without much effort to try to stop them. I was rebellious at times, given as I had enough sense to understand that I shouldn't have been left susceptible to such cruelty. Slaves weren't punching bags, they were people as well, pointed eared or otherwise. Maybe I shouldn't be so inwardly brooding though. I turned over on my bed, hugging my self and stroking my back with newly elongated nails, or claws as Master called them earlier when he almost amorously stroked my hand in his own, making me shiver and turn my head away in disgust. The bed was less than comfortable – the floor was probably much better, but I wasn't permitted to sleep there, because, as Master said, "I wouldn't want someone stepping on my merchandise". At least I was slightly important to him.

Blood harvesting is the use of a holder of the blood that a blood mage uses, so that they don't have to jeopardize themselves – it's rarely used however, because the harvester can die from the extreme pain, and the demons that will plague the host. The harvester can also benefit from the blood, channeling it though a variety of things, and even feeding on it to regenerate their own health. I touched my cheek, my skin pallid and cold – I hadn't begun harvesting yet, so I would have to look sickly for a little more.

"I hate this already." I mumbled, my Orlesian accent thick against my pillow, and I sighed, nesting myself closer to it, as a form of comfort, but it didn't help.

I didn't really have any friends in Tevinter, though, I did occasionally talk to Danarius' slave, Fenris, but we weren't exactly friends – more so, much needed support for each other when we could be. He was nice when he wanted to be, and—and for some reason, I believe that when he got his lyrium markings they hurt far worse than my harvesting ritual did. Poor guy. When he first got them, he wasn't allowed to leave Danarius' mansion, and I climbed up to his window and spoke with him through there, until I was caught and whipped once my Master got a hold of me.

Finally giving up on the idea of sleeping, I sat up, pulling my knees to my chest as I glanced across the room to the door that led to Master's. He was more than likely sleeping, and I didn't want to check, last time I did something of the sort I was pinned to the bed, and I couldn't feel my legs for weeks. Why wouldn't he just kill me? Wouldn't it be easier to simply find a more mindless slave and hold them? I guess that didn't matter. I heard from other slaves – and some of the servants, that my Master planned on breaking me, to make me listen when ever he pleased – maybe making me a harvester was part of that little plan of his. It didn't exactly work – it only accomplished making me angrier.

I looked over when I saw the knob on the door that separated Master's and my room start to turn, and I hissed, scooting back on my bed. I was supposed to be sleeping . . . and I knew he'd be pissed.

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><p>I bolted up, panting heavily and placing a clawed hand to my chest, the blood marking my on cheek glowing in a bright red hue due to my fear, my eyes wide and frightened as I took in my surroundings again. I was outside, and it was night – the stars were laughing at me, I assumed. I shook my head at my foolishness and bit down on my lip. It hadn't been there for years.<p>

"The dream, again?" I heard someone ask, and I looked to the side, seeing Tamlen staring at me, sympathetically enough to calm me and force me to lie back down, I sighed, nodding slowly as I placed my hands to my face, the fur on my gloves brushing my pale cheeks. That would have bothered me if I wasn't distracted by other problems.

". . . mhm, but now I'm remembering little details. It's been two years, why can't I just let this go? Alosio isn't going to find me, not right now anyway." I whispered to myself, trying to sound convincing, but I wasn't buying it. I was property, prized as that, he wasn't going to let me go, he told me that so many times that it was carved into my brain.

"But he isn't dead. I would be having the same problem if I were you. Keeper promised to protect you here, Lysias; I know it's not the same as the Dalish in Orlais, but it can't be too bad." He smiled at me, and I nodded, giving a little smile back. It wasn't bad exactly, but it was a bit bland. The Orlesian Dalish were more – what was the word – showy, and we took pride in our priceless steel and fitted gloves and boots.

"It isn't bad; I just . . . don't think I can stay in one place for too long. After a while I'll probably leave – though, I'll still be in Ferelden, I'm really not going to feel like going back to Orlais, it'll raise too many questions. I also have a feeling these blood markings work as some sort of tracking device."

Tamlen sat up and stared down at me for a long moment, his eyes intent and curious, until I turned away from him and closed my own eyes, chewing on my lower lip again, an elongated sharpened tooth brushing against the corner of my mouth. Regardless of the reason, when people stared, it bothered me to no end.

"Tomorrow, we'll go and look for shemlens in the forest. I need to take your mind off of this, at least for now. Then maybe we can talk to Keeper and see if she can reassure you anymore. How does that sound?" He sighed, placed a comforting hand to my shoulder, stroking with his knuckles.

"Well, if you weren't attracted to only females, maybe you could take my mind off of all of this, but on a more serious note . . . I don't know, I'll think of something tomorrow, and don't call them shemlens, some of them are actually cute."

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><p><strong>Author Notes<strong>:

Why isn't there a Character Tag for the Warden?

Anyway, this is just the Prologue, which is why it's so short.

I've been wanting to write this for a while, but I've been distracted by my other fic, and didn't want to neglect it - I'll try to multitask. :)


	2. Achilles and Patroclus

The forest seemed thicker outside of the clan, or maybe that was just my mind playing tricks on me again. It did that from time to time, usually when I was lacking the usual amount of sleep for my body to function without stumbling over fallen branches and having to grab Tamlen for support – though that may or may not have really been on purpose. It just looked too green today, too overbearingly claustrophobic. Trees everywhere, and as I looked up I couldn't see the blue of the sky, just leaves and branches that seemed to get closer the more I looked. Keeper mentioned something similar about my eyes when she had met me, that my eyes were green like the i_adahlen_/i. They weren't, really. Alosio coveted my eyes, as well as other things, but he described my eyes as 'emeralds that he could pluck and sell' whenever he so pleased. Pale green like a new fragile bud, and they had brightened much more after my ritual.

I think Tamlen referred to my eyes when we met too. He said the color made them constantly look large, and that for a while he figured that I was always frightened over something, either that, or overtly surprised with everything I was seeing – as if I was lying about ever being Dalish before, which obviously wasn't true. Well, it wasn't obvious until they spoke with me about being a hunter. I knew how to use about bow – though I didn't like it – and I knew how to carry a creature back to camp without whining too much about the blood staining my armor. I also remember him commenting that the female elves loved my eyes, and thought that I was 'interesting'. My lack of interest in them was discovered soon after; though at first they didn't back off because they figured that this fact was simply a rumor started by some other male elves. I humored the idea at first, and called the thought cute, but eventually it grew annoying, and again, I denied that I'd find any interest in any female regardless of race or standing.

It wasn't my fault in the slightest however – referring to the clumsiness, of course, though my attraction to males wasn't either; it was actually Tamlen's, he woke me early – which you never wake Orlesian's early, ever – so that we could leave early, which I didn't want to do, of course. But here I am, in all my clumsy glory, trying my hardest to keep from looking for a comfortable looking tree and napping in it. Damn him. With a sigh, and a roll of my eyes, I stepped up closer to Tamlen, placing a slender, clawed hand to his shoulder to stop him from walking, just for a second. I heard the crack of a branch under his foot when he turned to me, and I frowned. I took the time to notice (again, actually, every time I looked at him I had to notice) that his eyelashes were rather long. I shook my head, dismissing my thoughts and not my want to speak, and then sighed.

"Why do we even bother coming out here? The humans will come regardless, non?" It was a fact. They came regardless of whether they knew we were here or not, always and without fail. Stumbling worse than I was on my lanky legs, and confused; half the time something else got to them before we had to.

"You've done this before, why are you complaining now?" Tamlen crossed his arms, and glanced at me for a moment, before finding what seemed to be interest in the foliage under his boots. It was probably because he knew I didn't like him staring at me.

"You woke me up, without a 'good morning, Lysias, I see you weren't talking in your sleep again' or a 'oh you look lovely today, i_emma lath_/i, any guy would jump at the chance to sweep you off your feet'. Maybe it should have been Fenarel that found me that day instead; he'd be a lot nicer." I placed a clawed finger to my chin, pretending to ponder, and I heard Tamlen chuckle then he shook his head and offered a little smile.

"I must have lost my manners." He voice seemed teasing, almost.

"I am kidding, however, you know. I'm glad you found me. Sorry you had to baby sit, or so you called it when you thought I wasn't listening." I back-pedaled to a tree, and leaned back, stretching my arms above my head until I heard a satisfying crack in my spine. I hadn't even really gotten a good stretch that morning; my poor neglected limbs.

"I called it that, because I knew you could hear me. I was hoping it'd bother you and you'd follow someone else around. You thought everything was so 'dirty' and so 'strange'. You called us bland on so many accounts, Lysias, which I didn't find true at all."

"You were bland. You've never been an Orlesian elf, Tamlen. You've never worn armor that took months to make and was adorned with the finest paints that were taken for our blood writing rituals. We do, have different tastes though, I must admit." I shrugged my shoulders and when Tamlen motioned that we should start walking again, I followed without a problem this time, standing shoulder to shoulder, though he was a bit taller.

"I can hear some running this way . . ." Tamlen whispered, pulling his bow from his place from his back, along with an arrow. I wanted to complain, say that I hated the bow because my hand-eye coordination was only good with specific things, and that I wanted to just use my blades, because they were shiny and red, but I stayed silent and did the same, because I couldn't do much else.

And sure enough, three of them, came stumbling along, stopping once they saw our bows and they staggered backwards, trying not to fall on their rears. I nearly snickered at the thought, finding the shems more clumsy than I, which was a rarity, usually. I was graceful on my legs when I needed to be, and only when I felt that I needed to be. At other times, the ground was my best friend, other than Tamlen, of course.

"W-we were just leaving!" One shouted, and I tilted my head just a little as an intoxicating scent flooded my senses. I wouldn't remember the last time that I had an intake on blood, despite the fact that it was only a few days ago. I hissed a little under my breath, and my eyes narrowed. The shem went to speak again, but noticed my gaze and silenced himself.

"Why were you running? You shouldn't be here anyway, especially looking like that." I sighed, and Tamlen glanced at me for a moment, probably questioning my wording of things. I was surprised that he hadn't gotten used to it in the two years we had known each other. I spoke like that often, and I sometimes I spoke out of my head because there was no real mental process that controlled when and what I said. That would be the end of me, Keeper said once, but I felt that getting into trouble could make things more interesting; I believe I remember Tamlen saying something similar, especially after he had gotten in trouble because of the brawl days prior. I was still bothered that he had taken the blame for me, when he hadn't nothing to do with the fact that it had started.

Never insult my appearance – I won't be flirting when I threaten to shove something up an ass. Sure, I was girly, with the hair and all, but that didn't make me any less of a male, or adult for that matter.

"Can you just let us go? We won't come back—"

"But I thought we were going to try to check the ruins again." Another one chimed in, and Tamlen aimed directly at the one that spoke.

"What ruins are you talking about?" He asked, voice threatening and harsh, like it usually was when he had to speak to shems.

"W-we'll tell you if you let us go." The first spoke again, and, despite the thirst that began to burn in my throat again, I nodded.

"In one of the caves, further in that direction," he pointed back behind himself, which wasn't really helpful in the slightest, considering that the tip of his thumb tilted lightly to the right, "it's an ancient ruin, or something of that sort, but there was this demon that drove us out, and that's why we were running. Now will you let us go?"

Tamlen seemed to take this well enough but he turned to me for the final say. I honestly figured that he would have allowed them to leave after I nodded the first time, but I was glad he didn't. I lowered by bow, putting the arrow away then I bit down on my lip, contemplating. My throat cried and I hummed to myself, placing a hand to my neck and trying to massage away the pain.

"The silent one and the impulsive one can go," and they ran off instantly without a problem, and as the talkative one looked off after them, I approached.

Tamlen must have assumed what I was going to do, and with a fairly silent shot from his arrow, the human was pinned to a nearby tree by his shoulder. The human's mouth was covered by a clawed hand before he tried to emit any noise, and I leaned into his neck, taking a moment to inhale the scent of his skin and the pulsing vein that rested at his neck. It was foul, as if the man had just drunk, and I turned my head away in disgust, knowing what such a thing would do to me.

"We're moving on, I can't take this." I hissed, backing away and placing my bow on my back, and Tamlen followed. I'd have to ignore my need to drain a being for a while longer.

"You're just going to leave me here?" I heard the human yell from behind us, and I shrugged.

"Something will come and get you." I raised my left shoulder in a half shrug and then waved my opposite hand in a dismissing manner.

We weren't exactly walking in the direction of the camp, so it was mutually and silently decided that the cave would be looked for, and at least examined. We knew the forests, and had never seen any sort of ruins, and even if we personally hadn't seen them, some other hunters hand to have and would have reported it back.

I glanced to Tamlen, for a long moment, before he met my gaze, a curious quirk on his brow. I thought for a moment, that perhaps, since I didn't like being stared at, I shouldn't stare at other people. But then again, Tamlen never seemed to mind too much unless he wasn't dressed.

"What's wrong?" He asked, and I shook my head slowly, fleeting my emerald gaze for a short moment.

"I'm . . . just curious. Have you ever thought of bonding with a male? I know Keeper prefers quite the opposite – and she doesn't expect me to be with females at this point – but what's one more elf that strays from the normality?" And I pronounced each syllable of the word 'normality' slowly, and softly, lowering my eyes to the toe of one of my boots.

Tamlen was silent for a long moment, and again, we stopped walking, and he stared up at what was visible of the sky then he emitted a sound that I could read, it was nearly a squeak as if he was going to regret what he was about to say. Maybe I just shouldn't have spoken.

"After, meeting you, I've thought about it. No one in the clan has really ever mentioned it, because of how we want the clan to continue to grow, but, you speak so openly on it, and you speak to men at times as if you're a woman yourself." Tamlen's voice was quiet, and he wasn't looking at me, once again. He made eye contact for a brief moment before he looked past me, possibly at a tree, or at the gold earring that was pierced through the cartilage of my pointed right ear.

"I speak like a woman? I want to take that as an insult, though, that could be a compliment too, I guess. You say that you've thought about it, but would you act on your thoughts?" I chuckled, at first, until I noticed the uncertainty on Tamlen's face, and I figured that I should stop asking questions because I was bothering him – again.

"Maybe, though, I would need to be convinced, I'm sure you know." He smiled at me, and though he smiled back, I felt my stomach coil and my face flush a faint red color.

"Aha, let's just keep walking, yes? We can talk more about this once we get back to camp." I liked talking to Tamlen, actually. And compared to most other elves, he was one of the most interesting. Keeper bored me most of the time; either that or she bothered me with her constant attempts at making me fit in more at the camp. It wasn't possible anymore, I had done much more that the elves in the clan, and she knew that. She even said it when we first met.

I didn't even look like the others; first of all, I was a bit smaller and more feminine than the other males. My tattoos glowed with different emotional reactions, and acted oddly at times – some called my behavior 'eccentric' and dismissed me as being childish and not knowing how to control myself; my emotions could at times be a bit unstable depending on the situations. I was plagued my demons, I talked in my sleep, and I always wanted wine with everything because that was what I was used me. When I was younger, I snuck into the city to steal wine all the time. Trying to make me fit in would take every noble from Orlais and then some.

We hadn't walked for too long, until I paused for a brief as a slow shiver ran up my spine. The air had grown thick and cold and . . . there was something else, something more grotesque that I couldn't quite put my finger on, and if I did I feared that my finger would melt at the touch. I grew tense, and my tattoos grew a faint red that caught Tamlen's attention, but he only nodded, as he felt the change in the air as well.

"We should be more cautious, Tamlen, it feels strange here." I whispered, and even readied my bow as I felt something odd approaching, but I couldn't tell what, because for what ever reason, my senses had been hazed. Something unnatural was tampering with what I was, and it wasn't a demon like it normally was, because usually the demon would have revealed itself through my thoughts by now.

Tamlen hummed in response, looking around slowly as we started walking at a lessened pace. Honestly, I wanted to turn around, and pretend that the humans said nothing on this. If it was so important, and so close to the area, than I figured that Keeper would have known of it already, so us going in and exploring was pointless and a waste of much needed energy. The more we walked, the more my stomach began to lurch and the more my thoughts began to race.

Then I heard the sound of a wolf, then another, yipping and howling at something. It wasn't until we got closer, that we realized they were making such noises because of us. I took a step back, and shook my head, again wishing that I had my blades. It was Tamlen's idea. He said that I wouldn't need them because I had to reason to get so close to humans if I had bows.

I rolled my eyes at the thought and let the first arrow fly, lodging itself in the wolf's skull. It fell lifelessly at my feet, and I shuttered as I actually noticed how close it was to biting me. Tamlen had already killed the other one, though I didn't exactly notice until he walked over because I was still trembling a bit.

"They . . . aren't usually that hostile." I mumbled as I kneeled down, placing my palm against the wolf's neck. "Tamlen . . . I don't think we should wander around here with just bows, especially if there are other creatures that could act like this."

He nodded and reached over to take my bow from me, but I shook my head. Yes, perfect idea; leave me without a weapon at all.

"Where exactly are you going to go? I'm not standing here defenseless." I mumbled, but the bow was taken away any how and he shook his head.

"You have those claws; you'll be fine. I left our other weapons in the hole of a tree just in case, I'll be right back – I promise." I frowned, and nodded as convincingly as I could, then turned as he ran off in the other direction, then I made a glance at my hands. The claws could cut through things, but they weren't as long as blades, and couldn't kill a wolf unless it was on its back or standing on its hind legs with its chest bared to me.

I decided that I would stand still until he came back, but then I noticed something. There was something white lying off to the side, and upon closer inspection as I walked closer, I saw that it was a halla, dead with a few bite marks here and there. I leaned down, brushing my fingers across the fur and I frowned at the poor creature.

"Lysias? Come on, let's keep moving." Tamlen called from somewhere behind me, and I turned and nodded slowly, walking over and taking my dual-blades from him.

I remember getting them from Orlais, before I was captured and all. The metal was black and red tinted now, from the time I used them during my escape. The end of the blades was curved at the tip – good for grabbing a person by the neck and killing them in the process. The center of both had a sharp point that jutted out just so; I tried not to travel without them, being as helpful as they were, but alas, sometimes I didn't have the option.

I walked with Tamlen at a quickened pace, until I saw the mouth of the cave, and I glanced at the other elf and chewed on my bottom lip, the feeling growing worse, and my senses woozy. I wanted to faint almost, but I had enough will power to only have to grab Tamlen for support once.

"I'm not sure I want to anymore. There's a strange air coming from the cave. It's cold and faint. There's something obviously wrong with what I'm feeling from this place." I whispered and he turned to me, shaking his head with that little reassuring smile on his face that he had when I was worried about something. For some reason . . . my heart wanted to sink at seeing it, but I didn't know why. My body knew something was horribly wrong before my mind followed suit.

"We'll be fine, and you can't say that you aren't curious at all, can you?" He asked, and though I was curious, I wanted to lie, pretend I was sick, or even honestly say that that air was taking a toll on my energies.

"Ugh, fine. Let's just go so we can leave, but if we don't see anything interesting when we walk in, we're leaving, okay." I stood still for a moment, wondering if I would regret my words, and it wasn't long after, that I realized that I did.

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><p>"<em>Tamlen, don't go near it, I'm sensing something strange from it . . ."<em>

"_I'm only going to look; it's just a mirror, and if it's been sitting here like everything else, any harm that it was going to do it would have done already."_

"_. . . It saw me . . . help, I can't look away!"_

I didn't think I could ever forgive myself for not making convincing him to turn around and go back, but I also wonder, if he would have listened regardless.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

For any spelling or grammatical errors, I apologize.


	3. Anagram of Lament

I didn't remember making my way back out of the cave at all, nor did I remember fainting outside in the first place – but I felt that it probably wasn't worth remembering anyway – if it was, than perhaps I would have. More than likely, considering the events that occurred, and the way the blood ritual worked, a demon had either taken over briefly to keep it's temporary vessel from danger, or, what ever that _damned_ mirror had done caused me to move on auto-pilot until my body couldn't take the strain anymore and simply collapsed. I had hit the ground pretty hard, I did remember that much, so a number of things really could have happened. I did, however, remember Tamlen's words, and I did remember, that Tamlen was not with me, whether I was moving on my own or not. That was the only thing worth paying notice to.

When I came to, briefly, I saw a man looking down at me, though my vision was considerably hazy, and askew. He was a shem, or a really bulky dwarf, not that it mattered much because I barely remembered his face. He apologized to me, and I whimpered out a little sound, feeling a sob building up in my throat, but that was all I could feel. I wasn't sure why I wanted to cry exactly, not at that moment, it might have just been the lack of physical feeling I had. I could hear the intense beating of my heart ringing in my ears, begging me to stop what ever was trying to happen . . . or whatever had happened already. I wanted to reason that I couldn't control or do anything about what was occurring, but I managed to take a brief moment to realize that reasoning with my heart was more foolish than anything else I had ever thought of doing. I wasn't sure of anything either way. It was as if the rest of my body didn't exist, and there was a searing pain worked in my head and trailed down to the bridge of my nose, making my eyes water – tinted red from my ritual years ago. It was only moments before my eyes rolled back again, and all I saw was darkness, and the face of the one I had lost.

My mind wandered for a long moment, thought it wasn't like a dream, or like the Fade, where I had been a couple of times during my time being owned by Alosio. Instead, this was a dark – almost condescending – filled space with long flashes of different illuminated images and strange textures to be felt against the parts of my skin that were exposed. Invisible patches of fabric and sepia toned faces – all looking somber for one reason or another. The faces were unrecognizable, either because I didn't know them, or something was wrong and I couldn't remember them (or of course because I was unconscious and therefore my mind was playing tricks on me). And the fabrics felt foreign and badly made to say the least, it was uncomfortable and itchy, but I found myself not having the ability to move my hands or arms to brush the sensation away. My legs continued to work for themselves, walking into door less, dark corridors filled with more pictures, and the scratching grew harsher. For a moment, I feared that it would draw blood. There were walls, apparently, but I found a way to avoid them, or my legs knew to on their own that a wall wouldn't be a fun thing to walk into. Perhaps my limbs were smarter than my brain. Some of the pictures were larger than others, perhaps to show emphasize, while others were entirely minute, and the larger the picture, the more a sense of familiarity gave me comfort.

At one room, my legs halted in their movement. It was empty, and that feeling that the walls would close in and swallow me returned – until I heard voices.

"_You'll never get back on your feet if you don't start moving, lethallin,"_ I felt a whisper against my ear in a soft male voice. It sounded too familiar, but even if I had the use of my hands, I couldn't put my finger on where I had heard the voice. The voice caused me to shiver, and though it was a whisper, it reverberated around the room, and grew louder before it dimmed.

I became anxious, thinking that someone else was in this room with me, because I couldn't see anything, and I could barely, just barely, feel lips against my ear. The pictures were bright, and emitted light enough for me to see, but with no pictures in this specific room, it was as dark as the chamber room in most Tevinter mansions. Again, I tried to make a sound, but this time a little whistle replaced my vocals – and I wanted to whine in desperation.

_"I'm surprised with all you've been through that you don't hate shems, especially mages,"_ the voice was a bit louder this time, though it was the same person speaking, and almost jokingly, with a half-hearted laugh at the end.

_"Your inan are so . . . green. Your soul must be fruitful, and constantly growing,"_ this time, the voice was female, and I shuttered at the feel of a hand against my head, petting over and messing up the layers of hair that adorned my head, but it was feathery – the touch, and disappeared as quickly as I felt it.

_"If we do make it out of here, it will be on a whim. The way you speak on escape plans are comforting, however, I must admit, but we can not get our hopes up," _another male voice, and I felt my legs quiver, though I couldn't move them to walk on my own. This voice was accompanied by an almost too gentle stroke against my shoulder. It was actually more calming than the others.

My lips parted, in an attempt at the word 'stop', but a little whimper emitted instead, nearly a squeak actually. More voices started speaking at once, and all of these voices jumped around the room, as if the voices could seemingly ricochet off of the 'walls' of this room, and collide with my senses; I wanted to hold my ears, and scream or run out, and block all of it some how. Slowly, the voices became more overpowering, like battle drums beating harshly in the pit of my ears, alerting for a battle that would never really come. My legs collapsed on their own, and I sobbed silently, because there was no other option, until the darkness faded away, and I was in a room.

In reality, my eyes had just finally opened after what felt like weeks.

It registered quickly that this wasn't the tent I shared with Tamlen, seeing as the bed rolls weren't littered across the grass, and my Orlesian sanctuary wasn't in plain sight in the corner of the tent, surrounded by my many random objects that I found and _had_ to keep in my possession because they were _pretty_. I sighed as my eyes returned slowly to the cloth that shielded my eyes from the sky – the tent seemed too closed it, but as I went to look for the way out, the movement of my eyes caused a terrible pain in my head and I hissed, forcing myself to sit up on the wooden table I was lying on. I felt stiff, _mostly_ everywhere, and my head throbbed and ached under some sort of strange pressure, and then I started remembering my little dream and my head started hurting worse. Then, again it occurred to me: this wasn't Tamlen's tent, and also, I didn't see Tamlen. Perhaps, they had placed him in another tent, to treat him without another person being in the way, I assumed, trying to reassure myself that he was fine, or at least, felt the same way I did – alive, sore, and a wee bit irritated.

I shook my head, frowning to myself as I managed to stand, gripping the wooden table I had been laying on, but my legs wobbled like a newborn halla calf trying to teach itself to walk. I stumbled to the flap that took me from the tent, and as I held my head again because the sunlight had agitated my headache, a familiar voice caused me to look up and my lips curved into a rather childish pout.

Fenarel.

"You're awake! Everyone in the clan has been worried since the shem brought you back a couple of days ago. How do you feel?" He smiled, faintly, but I couldn't smile back despite how sweet his little gesture was. I found Fenarel adorable, honestly. In a, we looked as though we were the same age despite the fact that I was older, kind of way.

"Lower your voice, please and thank you," I whispered, my tattoos glowing briefly as I concentrated on the pain more than anything else, trying to force it away, at least for a moment so that I could attempt at rational and clear thoughts. I couldn't heal it myself, I realized, and usually that meant that it was pretty fucking bad, "I'm more worried than anything else . . . where's Tamlen?"

I wondered if he had experienced weird nightmares as well, but I kind of dismissed that idea as well. The mirror could have affected something mental, and caused a dormant, strange series of dreams, but that happened to me a lot because of what I was. Of course I was probably wrong. I had strange dreams constantly, but usually I was calm, and my dreams were lucid, be they frightening or not.

Fenarel frowned, and shook his head, and I almost instantly assumed that I knew what that meant, but I stayed silent as the pain dulled long enough to keep me from wanting to double over and faint, again. I felt anxiety swell in my stomach and signed to myself, as a calming method, but the breath came out jagged and sharp, like a dagger.

"We don't know . . . we have sent hunters out looking for him; there are hunters out now searching." He offered a reassuring smile and I looked away, and then shook my head sullenly. I kind of wished that I hadn't asked, though I would have found out when I was wondering around camp looking for someone that wasn't there.

" . . . okay, I guess that makes me feel better a little." I mumbled out a lie then looked up again. Fenarel placed a hand to my shoulder, and then told me that the Keeper wanted to speak with me once I woke up, and he led me to her, keeping me stable as my legs still felt like jelly.

I wasn't in a talking kind of mood after what I had just heard, but I smiled to Keeper Marethari, faintly, but it was still a smile. She smiled back, just as faint, and then I saw a frown creep on her lips.

"What happened with Tamlen, _da'len_? When Duncan brought you back, he said that you were alone, outside of a cave." She asked, and I shuddered to myself. Alone? That couldn't have been right. Briefly, I got images, of my weary figure, trudging out of the cave, and collapsing to the ground outside, but I was really by myself.

"We were exploring this caves – shems told us about it – and inside, there were corpses, and these spiders," I found myself trailing off for a moment, and I felt the need to get to the point, "in one of the rooms, there was a mirror, and – and Tamlen touched it, then there was this bright light, and I was knocked out." I looked away, and then she gave me a look that I couldn't exactly read.

"Walking corpses?" She asked, and I nodded, and she didn't speak more on it, well, on that specific at least.

"I know The Veil is thin here, I can sense it more that some of the others can, but I've never experienced –" I paused for a long moment, then shook my head furiously, shifting my light brown strands of hair around my head, "I've seen mages in Tevinter do something similar, actually. Alosio did it once to make sure I could still fight if I needed to. He surrounded me with corpses, and made me fight them off."

I was a bit bothered that I hadn't realized that when Tamlen had screamed that the cavern was haunted when he saw the corpses. Not that it mattered then, I wasn't going back.

"I want you to go back with Merrill, to look for Tamlen and so that she can tell me exactly what's in the cave."

When she spoke, I wasn't exactly mad because she wanted me to go back, not at first anyway, I was mostly mad because she wanted me to go back with Merrill. Of all the people she could send me with, but then again, Merrill was her first. The fact that I had to go back there, after all of that, didn't bother me until I replayed her words in my slowly numbing head.

I didn't like Merrill, as mean as that may have sounded, but it was true, and I knew that Keeper knew it. Everyone knew it. Andraste knew it and probably laughed at the fact that she bothered me that much. My eyes narrowed but then I shook my head and sighed inaudibly, I wouldn't go back on what she asked of me; I owed Keeper so much. I noticed Fenarel standing to the side, watching us from the distance with a hint of worry on his brow.

"Can I bring Fenarel, as well? I won't let him get hurt, I promise; the only thing that hurt me was the mirror, and I won't let him any where near it."

"I don't want to lose another one of the clan, but, if he wishes to go, then he can. I know you don't get along with Merrill, so maybe he can ease tension." She looked away from me for a moment, and then I nodded and walked over to Fenarel, sighing to myself. This was too much for one day, far too much.

"Fenarel, Keeper said I'm allowed to bring you with Merrill and me to the cave, if you want to go that is," I pleaded with him with my eyes, and I pouted my lower lip out a bit, and he smiled – whether it was because my actions or not – and nodded.

With Tamlen not being there, Fenarel was the only real person I could converse with without feeling odd, or at least without making me feel too different from everyone else, even though in a sense I was. Ashalle, as nice as she was, only helped take care of me when I was brought into the clan because, other than Tamlen, whom was still a hunter and had venture out for that reason, was the only one that had the time to fully keep an eye on me. I felt no real ties with her, though I did occasionally tell her things that I couldn't tell Tamlen – which was few considering that half the time I didn't care what I was telling him, which was bad. The thought of him made me frown and I shook my head, trying not to get too distracted. We were going to go back to the cave, if we found him we could bring him back and everything would be alright – everything would go back to normal and we can forget the damned cave ever existed.

"W-we need to find him, Fenarel. I don't know what I'll do if we don't." I shuddered at the thought, hugging myself as if it was comforting. It wasn't, not even in the slightest. I did remember telling Tamlen that I would have to leave the clan eventually because of Alosio, but I didn't want to also leave because I didn't have my best friend anymore. That would hang over my shoulders until I died.

Fenarel frowned and looked away, perhaps not knowing what to say to calm me –most people didn't. I didn't either, so it mostly didn't matter. He knew I was close to Tamlen – Tamlen was the one that found me wondering alone in the forest, injured, and brought me back to the clan, which he honestly didn't have to do, considering that he thought I was a flat ear and a thief. He watched over me constantly, even though he said that he hated doing so, I figured he was lying after a while; he was the only person I was ever really seen being content around; my first friend since I ran away. There was still hope, though Keeper did say that she had treated my wounds while I was walking away, and Tamlen didn't have such luxuries if they hadn't found him yet – he had been missing for days.

"Sorry, I . . . we should find Merrill so that we can go," my eyes averted to the left, half-lidded, then returned to the younger elf, "though I know going back . . . won't put me back at ease, walking away from the clan may make me feel better, at least a little. It's calmer out there, you know, and quieter . . ."

Fenarel smiled softly, nodding and took my arm with gentle fingers, walking with me and occasionally patting me on the back.

* * *

><p>"What <em>the hell<em> is that?" I screamed, seeing those . . . creatures coming towards us. They walked much like humans, but they weren't corpses – they even used standard bows and daggers. They were much like a new breed of something. Something drew me to them though, as if they radiated a familiar aura.

There were only two, but my confusion made me a bit sloppy. The clang of metal made my head ache, and I couldn't correctly stab at anything. Merrill ended up having to kill the creature for me, and then I heard her say something, mentioning the word 'darkspawn'.

"Lysias, are you alright?" I heard her ask, and I panted, resting my hand against a tree as my second sword was hooked back on to my back, next to the other. I felt like I had run around the camp more times than my legs allowed (I didn't know the exact number, considering that I had never attempted such a thing).

"Yeah, ah, I'm fine, really." I mumbled, breathing out a shaky breath, before I stood up straight, and shook my head, and Fenarel walked up to me, examining me with his eyes briefly before frowning.

"You do look a little pale," he mused, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh, darling, I haven't fed yet. Of course I look pale." I smiled, and Merrill looked a bit bothered by my wording.

Merrill was one other people, other than the Keeper, that didn't approve of the fact that I refused to be with women. She attempted to push me in the other direction, all the time, even after Keeper had said that she would allow it, especially since I originally came from another clan in which the rules were slightly different. Of course I understood that they wanted the clan to continue to grow, and reproduction would of course help with that – which was an understatement – but if I was forced to be with a female elf, that wouldn't cause me to produce a young, at all. Merrill gave up eventually, I think.

"Paler than usual, Lysias, you're nearly gray." He muttered, and I took went to look at my hands, but they were covered with my gloves, other than the tips of my fingers were my claws protruded. It probably wasn't anything too bad, so I figured that my paleness was probably still caused by my lack of feeding. Again, I was told that it had been days since I had awakened, which meant, there was no new blood circulating. I would worry about it later.

"I haven't fed in days, that's probably why. Stop worrying, _lethallin_." I offered a small smile, and we continued to walk, and I noticed Merrill glancing at me from time to time, and I growled in the pit of my throat. She was staring, she wouldn't stop staring. Her eyes made my skin crawl and the small amount of blood in my body boil. It wasn't just because I didn't like her, I just never liked staring. When Tamlen for did it I reacted the same. My tattoos glowed from my frustration, and I shook my head, trying not to let it bother me.

I didn't remember if she knew about my problem with staring or not, but regardless, staring was still rude to some, especially humans, I knew that well enough.

"What is it?" I snapped, turning my gaze to her with narrowed green eyes and she gasped, placing her hand to her chest as if she was taken a back by my words and the look in my eyes. I had done it before – she shouldn't have been surprised.

"I was just wondering," My gaze grew more venomous, and despite my returning headache I couldn't calm myself, the less blood I had, the worse my temper was, "why didn't you two come back to the clan instead of exploring?"

I sighed, and relaxed a bit more. Fenarel was silent, looking more alert, probably because he figured that we were paying less attention, which I could have admitted that I was. I could have been walking into a den of traps and not noticed, despite the fact that I was a rouge.

"We wanted to know if there was something worth mentioning. We've explored things before, and this never happened. Why would we waste Keeper's time and have her come to an empty cave rather than explore and have a reason for her to actually come?" My tone rose, just a bit, but I wasn't too rude; at least I didn't believe that it was.

She was silent, and I sighed, and walked a bit faster, until we stopped at a camp ground. My eyes scanned the area, and I noticed the fact that the place where the fire was happened to be rather fresh, it wasn't even cold exactly.

"Was this here when you came through before?" Merrill asked, and I shook my head slowly, brushing my clawed fingers through my hair.

"It probably belongs to the human that found me." I shrugged my shoulder, not knowing and really not concerned, but I felt that aura from earlier, again, and I looked around for a moment, hearing footsteps, but from multiple beings rather than just one, and again they were nearly human like in the pattern of steps.

With only that as a warning, more of the creatures from earlier walked closer, bow and dagger bearing. I pulled my swords from my back and sighed, quite tired of this. I would much rather just get to the cave, get Tamlen, and come back, but of course something had to ruin my plans. I blocked an arrow flying at my throat with one of my swords and I ran over to the attacking creature, catching the bow on the curved tip of my sword and I flicking it to the side, and swing the other blade to the side, cutting deep into the darkspawn's neck. The blood sprayed out against my skin, and I knew for whatever reason not to dare ingest it for feeding purposes, even though it was on my lips. It dropped, and I leaned down to examine it more closely, knowing that the other two could handle the others.

It was green, and its skin, as well as its armor was extremely cold to the touch. I tried hard to think of anything I could have possibly known about these creatures, but I came up with nothing. I looked back, seeing the other two elves waiting for me and I should my head and stood up straight, leading them to the cave.

"This is it . . ." I mused, with a hint of hesitance in my voice, which I figured that Fenarel noticed because he reached over to pat over my shoulder and again took my arm as we followed Merrill inside.

"There's . . . a strange air in here," she whispered and I nodded slowly.

"Tamlen and I said the same." I looked around, noticing the dead darkspawn littering the ground.

I followed the trail of darkspawn closely, and the other two followed. Nothing really had changed other than that fact, though the feeling was a lot stronger, and more consuming, as if it was drawing me somewhere. I shook the thought from my head and when we entered one of the rooms, more darkspawn appeared and I frowned. Honestly, despite the fact that I was mostly bothered, I wanted to know where they had come from. As we dispatched them, I mentioned to Merrill that they were not here before, and that all we saw were walking corpses and a large bear like creature in the room where I had lost consciousness in. I didn't hear her reply, though I expected that she only nodded.

I looked around the room for loot, then shook my head and continued though a door; following the old path I took with Tamlen before. I felt nervous again, but I knew that I didn't have Tamlen to talk to for reassurance, and plus, he told me that he was nervous as well which was comforting in the strangest sort of way. I nearly smiled at the thought, but then I remembered the circumstances.

We passed a statue that I remember speaking on with Tamlen, and I eyed it for a moment, then looked at the room where the mirror was, but the door was closed. Fear welled in my throat, and I swallowed, and then stepped forward, pushing the door open with my shaky hands.

_"I can't look away . . ."_

My eyes closed, and I half expected Tamlen to still be there, perhaps leaning against the mirror and just unconscious, but instead, a man stood there, examining the mirror and my heart sunk down to my hips and throbbed with a almost gasping pain. He turned to look at us and giving us an inquisitive look. I remembered his face, but I couldn't remember from where.

"You're the shem that brought Lysias back . . ." Fenarel spoke up first; right, that were where I knew that man.

"Oh, I remember your face. Thank you . . . for bringing me back." I whispered, lowering my head a bit as I frowned.

"You're welcome, but the mirror still affects you. I didn't expect you to live long after I found you," he seemed to frown at his own words, "I'm glad your Keeper had magic enough to keep you alive."

I looked to the mirror, and then I stepped closer to the man, crossing my thin arms over my chest. That wasn't making me feel better – worse actually.

"My friend touched the mirror before I blanked out. Do you know where he is? We came to try to get him back to the Keeper, before—"

"I'm sorry to say, but your friend is lost to us, and even if he wasn't, two days without help would have left him corrupted." He spoke softly, and looked away from me, my eyes instinctively dropped, as well as my arms did to my sides.

"But . . . he _can't_ be! Tamlen might have gotten out; he might have left before you came and found me!" My voice was steadily getting louder, and my tattoos began to burn with the same intensity of the red that took them over. I hadn't fed, and I was straining myself too much, and the frustration was just making it worse, if I didn't calm down horrible things could have ensued.

"I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do. If he was left here, the darkspawn would have taken him." I shook my head, and stepped back, feeling my eyes water against my will and I stepped out of the room, pacing until I heard him mention the mirror. I glanced back in, and chewed on my lower lip. I wanted to take it back to the Keeper, just so that it could be looked at, but then again, I wouldn't want her touching it and getting sick like Tamlen or I.

" . . . the mirror must be destroyed . . ." Was all I really heard from what he said, and I hissed, though Fenarel grabbed my arms to hold me back.

"_No! _It might help us at least find Tamlen's body, if he is really gone we should give him a proper burial – w-we . . . I want to know where his body is!" I was surprisingly struggling against the younger elf's grip and I felt the liquid trail down my cheeks, which was even worse, considering that I was running low on blood, because along with the tears themselves, blood was secreted from my eyes as well when I cried.

He shook his head and I had no choice but to simply turn my head away until I heard the crash and shatter of glass pieces. Feeling weak, I squirmed, gasping out little panting sounds – a mixture of sobs and noises to emphasize the fact that I was running low on energies and still trying to push away from Fenarel. The shem went to speak to me, and I growled at him, considering spitting at him, but I wasn't that cruel; my eyes narrowed, though my sclera was red from the crying.

"You _filthy shem!_ _How dare you?_ We could have used that to help him, but you didn't even give it a chance! You didn't care did you?" he didn't respond to what I was saying, and that just encouraged me to continue on, "you're all the same aren't you? You only care about enhancing your own needs . . . " My voice dyed down as I realized what I was saying.

"He's a Grey Warden, Lysias, I don't think—" Merrill just made it worse.

_"I wouldn't care if he was Andraste's servant boy!" _ I hissed, fanged teeth exposed in a snarl at her before I pushed out of Fenarel's arms and ran from the cave, silently daring something to come out and attack me, or even follow me from the cave; not wanting to see either of the three, and I was feeling dizzy. I needed to feed; I needed to at least keep my self from fainting and having demons come to my rescue. I didn't want it, that, or anything else. I just didn't want to admit that he could possibly be gone.

I rested myself against a tree and I cupped my face in my hands inhaling sharply. Even though I knew better, I felt alone again, utterly alone, and I didn't want to go back to the camp. I wiped the tears from my face, though I knew from experience that the blood dried quickly and had temporarily stained my now nearly peach colored skin.

"Why didn't I just pull you from the mirror?" I whispered to myself, pulling my hands from my face and shaking my head. I couldn't help feeling that it was my fault, I could have said no, or pulled him back – I could be persuasive. I sighed and started walking again, though I nearly stumbled from dizziness.

Looking around after I caught my bearings, and noticed a deer calf by itself, grazing. I approached, and it didn't seem too bothered by me, which was rather normal considering that they were used to the elves at this point. I gently stroked its nose, and leaned down closer, looking into its large brown eyes that blinked slowly and curiously at me, then it nestled against my hand.

"I'm sorry . . ." I mumbled, eyes resting on the creature's neck now, but it was the closest creature I saw, and it was either him, or possibly everyone else.

* * *

><p>I walked myself back to the clan, hanging my head as I realized that my words to the Warden were probably horrible. He was there too, standing next to the Keeper, and at seeing me, Merrill and Fenarel walked away.<p>

I walked up and I noticed that Keeper didn't give me a disapproving look, actually she looked saddened. I didn't understand – I had had bursts of anger before, and it never made her look that sullen.

"I spoke to Duncan while you were away, he believes that the only way to save you would be for you to go with him and join the Grey Wardens." She whispered, though was very much audible.

"W-wait . . . what?" I blinked slowly, biting at my lower lip before she repeated the latter part of her statement again for me, as if I hadn't heard her, and that was why I was questioning it.

"The only cure for darkspawn poisoning, which you have, is to because a Warden; if you don't, the taint will slowly kill you," he added, and I looked down.

I did say that I planned on leaving soon, didn't I?

"Alright, but . . . I—" I looked down and Keeper placed her hand to my shoulder, almost petting it.

"Funeral arrangements have been made for Tamlen, even though we don't have a body to bury. We will still plant a tree in his memory."

I smiled, faintly then hugged her, almost too tight, but she didn't mind, she hugged me back, stroking over my back with her small hand.

"Thank you, Keeper, and, Duncan . . . I'm sorry about what I said earlier, I was just upset . . ." I whispered and after I saw his nod I walked away to go pack my things, feeling that it was now or never when it came to doing something like that.

Walking back into the tent wasn't fun, to say the least. Tamlen's things were still sprawled where we left them, and I glanced to his bed roll before I packed my 'Orlesian sanctuary' into my bag with everything else that belonged to me that I felt that I could need. I paused for a moment, before exiting, then dropped by bag to the ground, and grabbed one of Tamlen's tunics, specifically the one he usually wore under his armor – that morning, he had decided on one that he wore less often – then his Sylvanwood ring that he kept under his bed roll. I sat, cross legged, on his roll and pulled one of my gloves off – the left specifically – and placed the ring on one of my fingers, though it didn't fit completely well because his hands were larger than my own, staring at it for a moment, before the glove was returned, and I placed, the tunic in my bag as well.

Much to my surprise, I managed to avoid tearing up during Tamlen's funeral, even as the seed was planted over virtually empty ground, which did bother me, I only hung my head, and tried not to think too much about what had happened. Even though Keeper had told me before the funeral had started that the clan would be moving soon, I vowed to myself to visit where the tree was planted, some day. I smiled at myself at the thought of something to look forward to, then when Duncan approached me; I knew what I now had to do.

I turned and looked around at the clan members, then sighed, pulling my bag higher up on my arm, my blades now resting against my legs, sheathed, so that I wouldn't get cut. I walked without passing a glance to most, feeling hands patting my exposed shoulder and hair, and the sound of sighs and sobs. I looked up when I got to Fenarel, and I hugged him, loosely, then smiled at him, and continued, shifting my eyes to Merrill, and offering the smallest curve of my lips, which she hesitantly returned. Noticing that Duncan was ahead of me, I gave Keeper and hug as well, whispering a thank you to her for even allowing me in the clan in the first place, then I went after the shem, not wanting to be left behind and at this point not planning on turning back.

"So, what is your name?" Duncan asked, at a seemingly random point while we were walking.

"My full name?" I asked, and he nodded, "Lysias Fortesque. In the clan, my last name was Mahariel, since I was hiding, but I don't think telling you my last name will cause problems. My middle name is Aristide."

"Right, you're not from Ferelden; your Keeper told me." He glanced at me, but continued to lead and I nodded. I hadn't the slightest idea where we were at this point.

"I'm Orlesian, but you probably knew that from the accent." I shrugged my shoulders, and blinked slowly, kicking my heels against the ground, and I looked around. At least there was a stone rode at this point.

He nodded in response, and I was tempted to ask him how he intended to keep me from dying, but I didn't. I'd find out eventually.

"And what . . . are you exactly? I've never seen an elf with their tattoos glowing like that, nor have I seen them with sharp teeth."

"A blood gather; against my will, a blood mage decided to make me a vessel for the blood he needed for his spells, and such, so that he wasn't risking himself for demonic possession." I spoke calmly, actually, since I had told most of the people in the clan, and this guy was kind of saving my life.

"I've never heard of such a ritual." He looking towards me, and I nodded.

"It's very rarely done. The vessel usually dies either during the ritual, or because of demonic possession." Again, he nodded, and I inwardly thanked the Maker because I didn't want to answer more questions about it.

"Again, I am sorry about how I acted earlier . . . I shouldn't have yelled at you like that, my emotions aren't always . . ." I sighed and he shook his head, offering me a slither of a smile.

"It's fine, I can understand. You two were close, I can tell by your reaction. At least I know a little about how you'll react to things. You don't have to apologize anymore." His words were actually extremely comforting, which I found strange; before everything he said had just bothered me.

"_Ma nuvenin_," I murmured in response, and we walked until we reached a town or so it looked. We stopped when we saw a man, in almost too bright armor, but the way it looked almost made me . . . want it – it reminded me or Orlais. So bright, so, well made; I shook my head at my thoughts. Now was not the time for this.

The face looked familiar though, as if I had seen the man somewhere. I didn't pay attention to everything, but something told me that this man was important. I, again, stayed quiet – eventually I'd understand, actually, I barely paid attention. I was looking around, pondering on the clan, and wondering if there was any food around because I was close to starving.

Blood was my means for survival, but I still liked food and craved for it, even though I wouldn't die without it. I heard him mention me being a new recruit, and I turned and tilted my head in a faux confused stare, then the man in the shiny armor held his hand out to me, and I shook it, hesitantly at first.

"This is King Cailan Theirin," Duncan said and I nodded, with a faint smile, bowing my head like I used to do in Orlais when I pretended to be a city elf because I was _bored_.

"And allow me to be the first to welcome you to Ostagar," he smiled at me, and I was pleased by his cheerfulness, "Duncan tells me you're a Grey Warden recruit."

"And that I am, your highness," I glanced away for a moment, then finally released his hand, "your armor is nice, shiny, it reminds me of the ones in Orlais."

I mused to myself, and he seemed to just then notice my actual origins. With the accent, I was seriously surprised that he had missed it. I turned to look at him when I noticed the barely audible gasp and I raised a hidden light brown brow.

"You're Orlesian? How did Duncan—"

I didn't think it was proper to cut of a King, but I did so, "Due to . . . unsavory circumstances, I ended up in Ferelden; I've been here for two years."

He seemed to take this well enough and he gave me a quick glance and a smile before he walked away. Duncan turned to me, and shook his head, then walked me closer to the bridge that led into the actual area that was Ostagar.

"In order to become a Grey Warden, you must complete a Joining Ritual. Before we do that, however, I want you to find Alistair, a fellow Grey Warden, and after you do, come and find me." He spoke clearly as he walked with me, and I nodded in understanding.

"I like the King," I felt the need to mention, and Duncan gave a little chuckle, and then sent me off into the town.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

I wonder if people can actually guess who the voices are.

There's three people (one of them speaks twice, of course).

One of them may be a bit harder, depending on a few things.

This has to be the longest chapter of anything I've uploaded on this site.

*is proud of self* :)

And again, for any spelling or grammar errors, I do apologize.


	4. In Strange Company euphorie

It took a while, before I realized something especially important, to my own well being at least, if not to others as well. As I looked around, at all the soldiers and groups of people – possibly from all over Thedas, though I couldn't be sure – I realized that, I was in fact surrounded by people, most of which being human. I couldn't feed here, not even if I wanted. I had fed before I left, but off of a creature, not a human, which meant that I wouldn't be able to last for too long. Andraste's flaming tits. I needed to remember to ask Duncan about what to do after I found this Alistair man, where ever he may be. He knew what I was, and hopefully wouldn't be bothered by my questionings. Or, maybe we wouldn't be in Ostagar for very long and it wouldn't matter; I did doubt that he'd be too keen on the idea of me feeding on innocents and possibly killing them, and I doubted that "a demon made me do it" would be a good excuse. Of course, the human didn't have to die in this draining act, as I didn't take all of the blood unless the human struggled, or if I was running low on it, like I would be soon. There was no winning in this. With a little sigh, I continued to walk, stopping only briefly at the sound of a little whine followed by soft little pained yelps. I frowned, and turned in the direction of the sound, a little fenced in area with a man standing in front, behind slightly over the fence, possibly looking at the hound making the fuss.

I walked closer, to get a better look, but when he turned to me, he looked rather startled, his eyes a little too wide and a sharp gasp accompanied by a hand being placed to his armored chest. He hadn't heard me walk over, I figured, dismissed the reaction, and I glanced over the gate, seeing a dog, head hung and panting softly as if exhausted, then back to the man.

"What's wrong with him?" I asked, and briefly thought back to how the halla reacted to death in the Dalish camp, and they were connected to the elves in one way or another. They were crying during the funeral for Tamlen, like they did during any, but they seemed to have more pained and drawn out whines that hurt even my ears, and brought back my headache. I shook my head at the thought, thinking that now was not the appropriate time to think of such things, though, I figured that there probably would be worse times, and a lack of a time that could be better. Thinking of it when ever I had the chance would be better, but I figured that I shouldn't consume myself with it as that would only lead to distraction – which was bad.

"He was injured in the Wilds, and his owner was killed," I noticed the small frown on the man's lips, and I glanced towards the dog again; it backed away from the fence with a hardly audible whimper, "I want to give him his medicine, but I can't unless he's muzzled."

The man paused for a moment, staring at me, and I felt myself want to hiss at him, but I simply turned my head away, lowering my eyes to the ground. It wasn't his fault, he didn't know. Actually, most people didn't know _why_ I disliked being stared at, that was too long of a story to explain to a random person that I didn't even know the name of. I remembered that I had to explain it to the clan quickly, because the stares happened frequently with me being new and all. Tamlen and Keeper heard first, and they spread it around the clan in an attempt to keep eyes from focusing on me, though I knew it wouldn't be helped if a person did.

"Would you mind . . . trying to muzzle him for me? I would really appreciate it." He asked, and I couldn't help by smile a bit when I looked back up in his direction.

"I wouldn't mind." I was going to set my bag down before I walked in, but I found the idea pointless as it wouldn't take that long whether I succeeded or not.

The muzzle exchanged hands and I walked into the pen, inching closer to the dog. It backed away, perhaps instinctively, and I kneeled down, placing my hand under its nose for him to sniff. I knew of the Mabari though not much, and I figured that he'd be able to smell through the glove, though I of course wasn't sure; I don't remember ever fully encountering one, especially in Tevinter or Orlais; I had met men that acted of savage dogs, though that was a different story. He seemed content enough with my scent, and allowed me to stroke his head, panting softly, but in uneven breaths.

The man from before was watching curiously from behind the fence; I could feel his eyes on the back of my head, watching my hands as I gently placed the muzzle against the dog's mouth without too much resistance from the wounded hound. The man walked in behind me, and I backed out, giving him enough space to administer the medicine. The animal whined again, seeming to almost submissively growl, but then he lowered his head.

"Will the dog be okay?" I asked, leaning against the gate as the man returned and he looked away before speaking.

"Well, the medicine should subdue the affects of his injury, but that won't heal him completely; also, he's lost his master, and it's not always easy to find him another. You see, Mabaris imprint on their masters and are bonded . . ." The man began to trail off and I wanted to yawn, but I felt that it would be rude.

"Can you imprint him on me? I wouldn't mind having a Mabari wandering around with me. I need some sort of close companionship." The latter statement was whispered, and the man smiled faintly at me.

"Maybe, but I would need to fix him up completely first. You do plan on going into the Wilds don't you?" at his question, I shrugged, though if I needed to go there to help the dog, I would, "well, if you go, could you look for a flower, it's white with a red center, I should be able to use it to heal him."

I nodded slowly, smiling and waved to the man before walking away, pausing in my steps next to what appeared to be a makeshift clinic as I thought about where this 'Alistair' man would be. Alistair was an interesting name, I thought to myself as I adjusted the bag on my shoulder and nipped at my lower lip as I figured that stopping wouldn't help in finding him, unless he walked up himself. I stopped again, by what looked to be a shop and before I could part my lips to ask to trade, the man snapped at me.

"Where have you been? I sent you too—"

"You haven't sent me for anything, shem . . ." I growled, and he blinked slowly in realization then shook his head, waving his hands apologetically.

"I'm sorry, I thought you were—" I cut him off again, looking away and rolling my eyes apathetically. I didn't care who he thought I was, actually I already knew; he thought I was some servant elf that likely wasn't paid enough, and certainly didn't deserve such words. This was the reason why I never fully became a city elf, foolish shemlens like these. I realized that I was growing far too irritated and I need not be.

"Ugh, never mind, I'll take my business else where," I stepped to walk away, but I stared at him for a long moment then sighed, "not all elves are as nice as me, shem, if I had been a less forgiving one you'd have a dagger to your throat."

He only frowned and turned away from me, and I sighed. At least I warned him – I didn't have to. I was starting to find not much interest in this place, especially after that episode. It was too noisy, and seemingly disorganized, not that the Dalish always were. My Orlesian Keeper always had trouble with keeping us organized, especially with me constantly roaming off. Hard to keep track of us all, I supposed. I walked farther away from the noise, and up a stone ramp where I saw two people speaking, I stood at an eavesdropping distance, and heard bits and pieces on an argument before one of the men – I assumed from his attire that he was a mage – walked away.

"What was that?" I couldn't stop myself from asking and the man turned to me and gave a little chuckle.

I thought he was cute, kind of. He looked like the type that had a goofy grin without a reason, or at least for a reason that wasn't known to anyone but himself. Not that it was a bad thing – humor was nice. I wouldn't judge him based on his looks however, though I would admit to myself that I wanted to touch his hair. I always found blond hair interesting, if that wasn't weird, which it probably was. I smiled, just a little, and then he shrugged his shoulders.

"Wait . . . you wouldn't happen to be Alistair, would you? If you are, you're just about the luckiest thing that's happen to me today." I laughed, and then noticed the quirk in his eye brow and how he held up his hands in defense and realized what I had said.

"Oh, not like that, I mean, I was supposed to be looking for you . . ." I frowned and figured I should start this differently. "I'm Lysias, and Duncan told me to find you and then find him, and all this _finding_ . . ."

It was hard not to complain. We had walked all the way from my clan, to here, where ever Ostagar really was, and then I had to walk more; it was all rather tedious in my opinion. I saw his smile and he shook his head, giving me a glance over before he looked past me. He seemed nice, I thought to myself, but again, I didn't mention it, since I didn't exactly know him.

"Yes, I am Alistair, and you must me the new recruit?" He raised a brow and then smiled at my nod.

"Then we walk?" I asked, and was tempted to grab his hand, but he wasn't Tamlen; we had to walk at a comfortable distance, no hand holding, no grabbing, and no accident rear swatting. I pouted at the thought as I turned and started on my way. Alistair didn't seem the type – or my type at least – given how he reacted to my words earlier.

"So, where did you come from?" I figured he was asking because of my accent, much like how most people seemed to, at least he wasn't drilling me with questions.

"I came from Orlais, but Duncan found me in a . . . cave pretty much," I laughed to myself then shook my head, "I've lived in a Dalish camp here for a little over two years." I was sure to leave out the 'running away from a crazed Tevinter mage' part out, just to be safe.

I slowed my pace, because I wanted to continue the conversation, and he walked up next to me. He had to be at least a foot taller than me give or take. I sighed, and tried to think of a question to ask him. I thought of asking him about the Wardens, but I didn't want to, as in my opinion that wasn't as interesting as anything else I could possibly ask. I hummed to myself, focusing on where I was going, but then I stopped and noticed a man in a cage, leaning his back against the metal and frowning.

My curiosity of course got the better of me, and I sighed, walking over and peering up at the man who noticed me, albeit, with a bit of shock and his frown deepened.

"Usually people don't come and talk to the prisoner," he looked the two of us over, and Alistair glanced at me, as if questioning why I had come over in the first place.

"I'm not the usual person." I replied, and shrugged my shoulders. I felt my bag begin to slide and I shifted it back over with a lift of my arm. I couldn't wait until I could finally put it down.

"Maybe that's a good thing," he sighed and glanced past us at a man, presumably his guard, glancing back at us momentarily before looking forward again, "I haven't been fed since they locked me in here, not even a drink. They may have forgotten of me, with the upcoming battle and all, but could you please ask my guard if he could spare something? I'd appreciate it."

I pondered for a moment, glancing from the man to the guard a few feet in front of us. I was almost tempted to kill the guard, not for the prisoner, but to feed, but I realized that too many people would see it, and Alistair didn't know that I was a blood gatherer, yet, and even if he did I doubted that he would have been too keen on the idea of me suddenly draining an innocent. I nodded, eyes still resting on the guard as a moved towards him. I placed a hand to his shoulder to get his attention, feeling the cold of his armor through my glove, but I figured that effect happened with most armor if it wasn't constantly out in the sun. He turned to me, his brow cocked in a questioning manner. I smiled, small enough to shield my fangs from his view.

"What is it?" He asked, seemingly unconcerned with the fact that I was touching him, either that, or just completely disinterested. It didn't matter much to me either way.

"Well, you see that prisoner behind us? The poor, barely clothed man, covered in blood?" I asked and he placed his hand over mine, removing it from his shoulder and he turned to me fully, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What about him? He's been complaining to you, no doubt." I could have sworn that I heard a hint of a chuckle in his tone, but I dismissed it as my mishearing.

"He's hungry, and says that he hasn't been fed since he was locked up. Perhaps you could spare some food? You wouldn't want him to stave, and covered in blood too. He'd die and it'd seem that you tortured him to death." I feigned a pout, hearing a chuckle from Alistair somewhere behind me.

The guard blinked a few quick blinks and grumbled, and glanced back at the prisoner, who was now sitting again, eyes closed and leaning against his cage. Then his eyes returned to me and he turned away from a brief moment to grab something, then he placed a few small food items – I couldn't identify them, and honestly doubted that I would ever want to – in my hand. He said nothing all the while, and dismissed me with a flick of his hand. I smiled and returned the prisoner, passing him the food through the cage.

"You're welcome." I spoke before the man could speak, and he smiled at me.

"Thank you." He said regardless, and Alistair tapped my shoulder, mentioning that we should probably be going.

I waved to the caged man, and followed behind Alistair, not minding his leading, since that may stop me from getting sidetracked, again.

"That was a nice thing you did." I heard him speak, and I hummed in response, not knowing much else to say about it, that and my pallet was starting to burn and I didn't want my voice to come out hoarse. There was a chance he'd question it, and I didn't want that because I wasn't sure if I'd be able to give a good and clear answer.

I tried to clear my throat, but ended up coughing instead, covering my mouth with my arm as I found it hard to catch my breath when I started. My walking halted, mostly after walking right into to Alistair's chest, and I glanced up at him for a brief moment, and I wanted to sigh; he must have stopped walking when I started coughing. I shook my head, after I managed to stop and I felt his eyes on me, and I sensed his concern, and only pouted.

"Fine," I tried, making sure that my voice was clear enough – it wasn't, "I'm fine."

It sounded like I had let a halla trample on my throat, and then clean it's hooves on it. I humored the idea of clearing my throat again, until I felt Alistair's hand on my shoulder.

"Are you alright?" He asked, and I wondered if he had ignored what I had just said because of the way my voice sounded. I groaned in displeasure, and nodded my head, but he seemed to not believe me, he just stood there, hands crossed over his chest like a disapproving parent about to scold a child.

"You don't look the type-" I started, clearing my voice again with a much better outcome, "the type to be all disapproving. I'm fine, really. My throat is . . . dry." At least I wasn't lying.

"Then maybe we should get you some water?" He offered and I smiled at him, shaking my head.

"That's not what I need. I'll explain when we get to Duncan, alright? Don't worry, if I were in dire need of something I'd be on the ground right now."

And honestly, I was surprised that I wasn't on the ground. He sighed, but nodded, and started walking again, keeping a close eye on me the entire time, which bothered me, but I managed to ignore it enough since he was being kind about it. During a moment, while he wasn't looking, my tattoos glowed faintly, and briefly as a reaction to my thirst, and incoming lack of energies.

* * *

><p>"There you are." Duncan spoke calmly when he saw us approaching, and I noticed two other men standing near. I allowed Alistair to introduce the other two men, saying they were also recruits.<p>

Ser Jory seemed fidgety, which I noticed, and smiled at, though I figured that his actions were with reason. This whole Grey Warden business wasn't like walking through flowers, which was more than obvious. The other man, Daveth, seeming a little more reliable, and he didn't seem as worried, and a little more confident with everything. He seemed content with all that was happening. I was barely listening to Duncan's explanation about what we had to do in the Wilds.

" . . . you need to acquire three flasks of darkspawn blood, and find the Grey Warden Cache."

I looked up and tilted my head, asking for permission with my eyes and the fact that I grabbed my bag to sit it down, since of course we would have to fight darkspawn if that was the case. Duncan nodded, and I rested it to the side, and then yawned lightly.

"That sounds easy enough." I mumbled, and Ser Jory looked at me, a bit confused but he said nothing, he only shook his head.

I remembered the mabari hound, and how I had to find the flower, that was going to be one of the main things I'd pay attention to, other than not getting killed, of course. Maybe I'd be lucky enough to find something to feed—oh right; I was supposed to talk about that that.

"Lysias, I assume you've told Alistair about your special circumstances?" I heard Duncan ask, and I realized that now I didn't have much of a choice.

Alistair looked at me, and I glanced over, and pouted, shaking my head, and Duncan crossed his arms, showing that since it was my issue, I should probably explain myself. Duncan didn't know the entire story after all.

"Well, before I came to Ferelden, but after Orlais, I was a slave in Tevinter, and my old slave master did this ritual that's probably a sin in the eyes of the Maker," I was starting to grow annoyed with these explanations, "it made me a blood gatherer, so now I must feed on blood every so often so that it circulates. I'm a vessel for the use of blood magic, though I am no mage myself. Which . . . is why I had the coughing fit, Alistair, I'm running low. When we get to the Wilds, I may stop to feed, if I see a legitimate creature, and not a darkspawn, if it's all the same to the three of you, and if it isn't, just avert your eyes."

The three were silent for a moment, and I noticed Duncan looking away, as if thinking about something, whether it was what I had just said or not. Alistair spoke first, after clearing his throat. I wasn't looking at them though; my eyes had rested on Duncan for a long moment, before returning to my bags. Duncan picked them up, and I assumed that he planned on taking them somewhere safer and away from the fire behind him.

"So you feed on blood . . . for blood mages?" He asked, and I sighed, shrugging my shoulders as if I didn't really know.

"Yes, kind of, but I can choose what mages use my blood . . . unless they have a stronger will power than I. I'm not saying that I condone blood magic, if that's what you're implying. I'm rather neutral on the act myself, though I was owned by a blood mage." Again I shrugged.

"It's interesting," Daveth added, and I almost smiled at his words. That wasn't the usual reaction.

"Regardless, we should go, yes? The darkspawn are probably waiting with bated breath, though, if that's true . . . maybe we should take our time." I was tired of the conversation, and it had really just started.

* * *

><p>My tattoos glowed intensely when we stepped into the Wilds, and Alistair seemed to be the only one that really noticed, though he said nothing about it. It was probably the darkspawn. I felt them, or so it seemed, and they were approaching at a wary pace as if eying us from a distance and getting a feel at how exactly they should attack. I also heard the howl of wolves, though I knew not where the sound was coming from. I wondered if they were corrupted as well, if they weren't, then that would be where I'd feed. I unsheathed the swords that had rested dormant at the sides of my legs and sighed lightly, shaking my head as I felt them come closer, inching slowly.<p>

"Hurry up," I whispered, growing irritated. I half-wished that the darkspawn weren't intelligent enough to scan over a person before they attacked.

I slinked around a pond slowly, faintly hearing the others follow behind. They hadn't said anything since we had come out, and I thanked the Maker that they hadn't, as we would have most likely been attacked before we got our bearings. My eyes rolled with discontent, and I picked up my pace, hearing the hiss of a creature now fast approaching; my tattoos began to burn at my skin.

Alistair charged forward first, ramming the creature with his shield and knocking it to the ground, his sword quickly being plunged into the darkspawn's chest. It gurgled and wriggled before it went limp. More appeared, aiming bows and baring daggers, approaching slowly however, as if something was keeping them back. Then again, I heard a howl, followed by a few high yips. I shook my head and glanced behind me for Daveth, and I motioned for him to walk over with a flick of my blade.

"We could slip behind them while the other two attack from the front? Rouges are better from behind after all." I offered, and he grinned, almost too feral for my tastes, then turned to tell Ser Jory, and I spread the idea to Alistair when he walked back over.

Daveth and I waited behind as Alistair and Jory went forward, sword bearing, and when they were in contact with the first couple of darkspawn, we moved, quickly, yet as quietly as we could around the small hill they were now perched on. I felt Alistair's eyes on us, and I hoped that he was paying enough attention to not get injured – not when we had really just gotten into the Wilds. I managed to count at least six creatures – thought there were probably more considering that I looked fast – while we were circling the hill and after we had trekked up to the top, two were down. Daveth moved ahead of me, embedding one of his daggers in the back of one of the darkspawn's head, pulling it out before the creature began to fall, and he used the momentum from the pull to swing the small blade into another's neck. I watched only briefly, turning towards two that were starting to overpower Ser Jory. I moved quickly, catching one of the creatures by the neck with the curved sharp tip of one of the blades and I cut into its neck. It screeched, trying to move away, but it only caused it to dig deeper. I pulled back, and the head slid off, and rolled down the hill ungraciously and sunk to the bottom for the pond.

"Lysias, genlock, behind you!" I turned, ducking down to dodge a blade being swung towards my head, and I swung my arm, at first not knowing where I had cut as I had shielded my eyes before blood sprayed in it. When I moved my arm away from my face, I saw that I had sliced open its neck; a dark red blood dribbling down the side of the hill from the creature's neck.

"Eww . . ." I whispered, and turned, seeing that there was no more threat and I looked to Alistair after sheathing my blades.

"What's wrong?" He asked, and I raised a brow, holding out my glove covered – which was now stained with blood – out to him.

"The vials for the blood, I imagine you have them." Though, there was a chance he didn't of course, I never saw anything handed over, but then again I wasn't paying attention.

"Oh, right."

I turned away and leaned down to look over the one that I had last killed and my eyes narrowed. At least I knew what these specific darkspawn were called. I hummed to myself, until I was handed a vial. I frowned, pulling the dead genlock closer towards me, and I pulled one of my blades back out, cutting a gash in the creature's arm. The vial was placed against the 'skin' and I milked the wound, letting the blood run into the flask until it was full. Then I lodged the cork that had come with it into the container to close it and handed it back to Alistair.

"Alright, let's go find more." I started down the hill, leaving the one small sword in my hand as I remembered that there were still wolves near by. "We still need to find the Warden's cache, so we shouldn't get all the blood from one place; it'd make this all boring."

As we were walking, I noticed a flower growing out of a log, resting off to the side against what appeared to have used to be a stone structure of some sort. I walked over, examining it with my eyes, 'white with a red center,' just as the man had said. I plucked the flower, placing it in a small pack that was attacked to the belt that looped around my shoulder on my leather armor, then, without much explanation, I continued to walk.

"Why am I leading?" I felt the need to ask, glancing back at Alistair, who looked away momentarily and we pausing in our steps – something was approaching.

"You started to lead, and I didn't want to stop you," he shrugged his armored shoulders; "I don't like leading anyway."

"Yes, let the Orlesian lead," I chuckled to myself, "that'll surely raise questions."

I looked away, but I figured that Alistair had smiled; he seemed the type to do so. My other blade was unsheathed and around the side of the stone structure, near where I had found the flower, three wolves appeared, moving quickly towards us. This would have been a good time to have a bow – I briefly thought of Tamlen – but I shook my head, and I moved with Alistair, meeting one of the wolves halfway, I moved behind it as the blonde slashed towards the canine's head, dodging and baring his shield when the wolf moved to leap at him and bite. I took this opportunity to plunge one blade into the wolf's back, and once embedded, I twisted it. The pained howl that resulted hurt, just a little, then the canine dropped, just moments before Daveth and Jory felled the ones they were attacking.

There was a strange air radiating off of the wolves, as if they were corrupted as well, and since I didn't want to risk it, I backed away, and sheathed the long swords again. This wasn't going to work out well, I thought to myself, I needed something, and it didn't appear that I'd find anything out here.

"I've never seen blades like that before." Daveth commented, walking up next to me. I peered up at him and nodded slowly. Of course he hadn't.

"They were made for me in Orlais, though . . . they look different now. They used to be black, and by using them after my ritual had taken place, they tinted red. Apparently, after a while, they'll be red completely. The energy from my ritual – the fact that I am this – radiates when I fight, and can be expelled through my hands, and into the swords. It makes them stronger, so to speak. The left one is Splinter, and the right is Thorn; I refuse to use anything else." I offered a brief explanation, petting the pommel of one of them then chuckling.

"Do the names mean anything?" I heard Jory ask behind me.

"What do you think? Splinters and Thorns get stuck in your skin when you least expect it because you aren't paying attention – and they hurt like a bitch too."

"_Is someone there?_" I heard someone call, and I quickened my pace; I figured we could take time to talk about my long swords later.

We noticed a man, laying on his back and squirming, covered in blood. I hissed almost inaudibly – the scent of his blood shifted deliciously around my nose, filling my nostrils with the iron smell that I had been thirsting for. I shook my head, trying to dismiss it, but it was futile, as I couldn't cut off my ability to smell just by will alone. Alistair leaned down to the man, and I tried to distract myself from the smell with other thoughts: the Mabari hound, where the clan had moved to, every profanity that involved the Maker and Andraste. I was never spiritual, so I felt that taking the Maker's name in vain wouldn't do anything against me.

"What should we do?" I heard Alistair asked, and I looked up, blinking slowly.

"About what?" I asked, biting on my lower lip. Perhaps paying attention was a good and necessary thing.

"This man . . . he's near death." He whispered and my throat burned at the words, my tongue running over my lips at the thought of feeding. If I had been a weaker man I would have already drained him.

"Let me have him . . ." I spoke without realizing that I had, then I covered my mouth with my hand, realizing what I had said and what the reactions might be. But, I meant it, I wanted him, it would dull the thirst for a quite while.

Alistair seemed uneasy about the thought, and I didn't look towards the other two for their approval, I didn't care what they thought, until Daveth spoke that was. He was really growing on me, honestly. We were quite similar.

"I think you should let him, the man's probably going to die anyway." He shrugged, and I briefly looked towards Ser Jory who was shaking, and seemed to not be paying attention anyhow.

"Alright Lysias, go ahead . . ." Alistair murmured, and I almost, _almost _squealed.

I walked over to them man, leaning down, grabbing the man by the face, and with a swift movement, I broke his neck. The crack made Alistair wince; I managed to notice this from my peripheral, but, it was more merciful – some found the feeding painful – also, I didn't want him to scream. Even if he was near death, the weakest person could still scream at the top of their aching lungs if they willed themselves enough to do so. I learned that the hard way. I then leaned down, baring my fangs and inhaling the scent of his vein – it was fresh enough for my liking. I leaned closer, pushing his head away and I gently locked my mouth around his flesh and bit in, digging my teeth into the man's carotid artery. My mouth flooded with a taste of iron and my eyes closed, sucking harshly and perhaps loudly, as a heard a disgusted sound coming from one of the other men. I continued to drink regardless, feeling my body grow warmer and the blood circulate more rapidly. There was blood running out of my mouth, I took enough time to notice, though I did nothing about it. I placed my hand against the dead man's face, getting a better angle as I felt the blood come in less and less amounts, and within moments, all that I could get from the body, I had gotten. Sitting up, I glanced at the three men. Ser Jory had his hand over his mouth, his eyes wide and he looked positively sick. Alistair was looking away, and his hands were over his ears, which in my opinion was probably the best idea. And Daveth, didn't seem too bothered, and when I looked up he was actually just fixing his gloves. I wiped the blood that ran down my chin away then I stood, stretching my back and running my tongue slowly over my lips to remove any access blood. Though I couldn't see my lips, I knew that they were stained red as they were every time I fed.

"Mm, okay, let's keep walking, yes?" And without waiting for a response, I started walking again. They'd follow; turning around would be foolish as we didn't have everything.

They _did_ follow after what I figured was a moment to get over what I had done, then we again saw darkspawn approaching. Again, my swords were removed from their sheaths and I ran forward, cutting and slashing through them with much thought. I heard the other men behind me, but with my energy, I didn't care much for coming up with a plan for this. I pivoted on my right foot and turned, kicking one of the darkspawn onto its stomach and I stabbed in through its chest. Alistair ran past me, knocking over a line of the creatures with his shield. I chuckled in delight, and directed my attention to another darkspawn, though when I went to cut into it's neck, it blocked me an axe, I growled, knocking the axe out of my way with the other long sword and I beheaded the creature. Blood spurted out of the creature's head like a fountain, and then it toppled backwards.

"Daveth and Jory, you two have to get the remaining vials, I did my deed already!" I returned my swords to where they belonged and watched as they got the vials from Alistair and filled them. I waited patiently for them and then sighed, looking around. Alistair most likely knew where the cache was, as I didn't.

I ran my tongue over my teeth, licking off the remainder of the blood. It felt nice to have real human blood circulating again, and the energy made me a bit more affective, and gave me an advantage when it came to dexterity. I hummed softly, watching as the other three men approached. When Alistair was next to me, I tapped his shoulder lightly, smearing some of the blood that coated his armor, though it didn't matter.

"You know where the cache is supposed to be, yes?" I asked and he nodded, looking forward, and he began to lead.

Following was less interesting this go around, especially since I was short and couldn't see over Alistair's shoulder. Complaining was pointless, as otherwise would have gotten—

Alistair had only walked straight pretty much, and into an old ruin. I pouted, and shook my head walking head of him and looking into the chest. I felt around, but there was only air and the bottom of the broken container.

"It's empty." I mumbled, and then I sighed, turning to walk away, but I saw someone coming towards us.

It was a woman, dressed in all black, though, in my opinion, scantily clothed. Her arms were crossed beneath her breasts, and she had a small grin etched on her painted lips. I tilted my head, not threatened, as we weren't getting attacked. There was no need to be hostile to something that mostly appeared friendly.

"Well, well, what have we here?" She asked, though it was rhetorical, walking slowly down the stone staircase attached to the ruins. I eyed her, curiously, eyes shifting slowly over her form. "Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger, poking amidst bones that were long since cleaned, or merely an intruder come into these darkspawn filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?"

For a moment, she looked over us all, one by one, scanning us over with her eyes, I heard Ser Jory shiver under her gaze. I could have laughed, but I didn't, though I would try to remember to later.

"What say you, hmm: scavenger or intruder?"

"Neither, I'm here because I was told to be. Awful how these things work out." I shrugged my shoulder, eyes narrowing, though not threateningly. She chuckled.

"And why is that? Why are you here? I've wondered that since you've come into these Wilds. I have watched you, seen what you've done – things that I've honestly never seen before." The feeding, I thought to myself, though I didn't mention it.

"Don't answer her questions, she looks chasind and that may mean that others are near by—" Alistair, spoke, but what cut off by the woman.

"Ooh, and you fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?" She chuckled again, and I irritably placed a hand to my hip, the other rubbing the side of my neck.

"Yes, swooping _is_ bad . . . " I laughed at his words though then quickly turned my attention back to the woman.

"Who are you?" I asked, my tone even and clear, and curious over everything else. This woman was interesting.

"She's a Witch of the Wilds, she'll turns all into—" Daveth seemed worried, and I rose a brow. He wasn't afraid of darkspawn, but he was afraid of what could possibly be a witch? Brilliant.

"Witch of the Wilds? I've heard much of these legends; though have you no minds of your own to believe what you wish of these things?" She turned to me. "You, elves are not frightened by foolish legends and fantasies; what is your name?"

"Lysias," I rose a brow, a small smile etched on my lips, "a pleasure to meet you."

Which it was, this was the nicest encounter I had had as of recent. She blinked slowly, her grin returning again.

"Politeness comes from strange places. You can call me Morrigan, if you wish." I nodded, "You came here, for something in that chest, something that is here no longer-?"

"Here no longer? You stole them, didn't you?" Alistair accused from somewhere behind me.

"How does one steal from dead men?" I bit down on my lip at her words, trying not to grin at the truth in them.

"Quiet easily, it seems. I suggest you return the documents. They belonged to the Grey Wardens." Alistair replied, and I sighed lightly. I hadn't come out for all of this though. The other three seemed so anxious, and in my opinion, for no reason.

"I will not, for it was not I that removed them." She spoke up and I placed both of my hands to my sides.

"Who has them then?" I asked, and her attention returned to me.

"My mother, and if you wish to get the documents back, then I suggest you follow me." She turned and started walking, and I shrugged, not caring much other way, but Alistair spoke up before I took a step.

"I don't like this; her appearance seems too . . . convenient." He sighed lightly and I smiled.

"As did mine, if you think of it that way; come on Alistair, I'll protect you from the big bad Witch of the Wilds." I started walking, and I heard of grumble of irritation from Alistair, but he said nothing else.

* * *

><p>We approached a small hut, an elderly looking woman standing outside, her arms crossed and her eyes focused straight ahead of herself, but there was nothing really there. It wasn't until Morrigan spoke up that she turned.<p>

"Greetings, Mother, I bring before you four Grey Wardens who—"

"I'd like to correct you: one Grey Warden, and three recruits." I smiled, and Morrigan scowled at me.

"I see them," the older woman spoke, and mumbled something about expecting us. Her eyes rested on me for a long moment, and I stared back, my eyes narrowing a bit.

"You expect us to believe you were expecting us?"

"You are required to do nothing, least of all believe. Shut ones eyes tight or hold ones arms wide, either way – one's a fool . . ."

"What if they do both at once; does that make them more foolish, or are they smarter for walking into something – knowing that what they do is stupid and closing there eyes so that they don't have to see what's coming?" I asked, and the woman eyed me again, and then chuckled.

"Interesting thought." Was her response, though she said nothing more on it. "Given how you took apart my words, what does your elven mind tell you of me, of this situation that you've walked into? Would you shut your eyes, elf?"

"My elven mind says that I have to accept that I'm standing here, safe, or so it seems, but in a situation that I hadn't expected."

She chuckled, and Morrigan crossed her arms over her chest. I glanced over at her for a moment, then back to the older woman.

"They didn't come here for such questions, Mother." Morrigan sighed, and again the woman laughed.

"Yes, they came for their treaties, and before you begin barking, your seal wore off long ago . . . I have protected these—"

"You protected them?" Alistair asked, seeming surprised and I turned to him, a bit curious, but I said nothing.

"And why not? Take these back to your Grey Wardens and tell them that this Blight's threat is greater than they realize."

"Thank you, for keeping them safe and all," I turned and started to walk.

"Morrigan, don't be rude . . . these are your guests."

I turned, and paused for a moment and Morrigan sighed, and started following behind us.

"Fine, I will show you out of the Wilds. Follow me,"

* * *

><p>I managed to ignore Daveth's and Jory's arguments, rocking back and forth on my boots, sighing loudly in an attempt to quiet them – it didn't help. I'd let them argue through it, for a little longer. I had taken the flower to the man treating the mabari, and was told to come back after the battle, which I promised that I would.<p>

"You seem a little more . . . peppy now that you've fed." Alistair seemed unsure of his words. I chuckled and smiled faintly.

"Peppy? Hmm, I suppose. It gives me more energy. The less blood I have the weaker I am . . . until—yeah, I'm peppy, very peppy." I averted my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest as I waited. Peppy was a nice word.

Alistair laughed and I smiled at him, glancing over at the other two men, still arguing away. They were starting to become harder and harder to ignore. I scowled, hissing softly, and Alistair glanced at me again.

"Why do you hiss and growl? Do all Dalish do that, or is it because of your ritual? He asked, and I again smile at him. He was a good distraction, though he seemed foolish sometimes.

"Some Dalish hiss, I suppose; I've done it since before the ritual. Growling hasn't started until after though." I shrugged my lanky shoulders, looking away. Daveth and Jory had finally stopped talking.

"At last we come to the Joining . . ." Duncan walked past us, and up to the stone table, the Grey Wardens were founded during the First Blight when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation; so it was that the first Grey Warden's drank of darkspawn blood, and mastered their taint."

I gasped, and at this point realized that I could have drank the blood from the darkspawn back at the camp. Damn. Too late to go back now; at this point the clan had most definitely moved on.

"W-we're going to drink the blood of those creatures? Seeing Lysias drink was enough for me . . ." Jory shook, seeing worried, and I tilted my head.

"You didn't have to watch, Ser Jory." I stated, not seeing why he didn't simply disregard my actions or do what Alistair did. Perhaps he wasn't used to it. No, obviously he wasn't, though neither were the other two.

"As the first Grey Warden's did before us, as we did before you; this is the source of our power and our victory." I hummed to my self, chewing on my lower lip.

"Those who survive the joining become immune to the taint; we can sense it in the darkspawn and use it to slay the archdemon." Alistair spoke up, and I glanced back at him.

"I can already sense the darkspawn though." I spoke up, a brow arched. I wasn't bothered by this in the slightest. I drank blood constantly, this couldn't be too different, or so I hoped.

"I suspect this has something do with that you are. The taint affected it." Duncan replied, and I nodded.

I crossed my arms, thinking over what he had said, ignoring what they were saying at this point; I had gotten all of the information I needed. If the taint affected too much, I would have noticed at this point because I was near breaking point. My eyes narrowed and my thoughts caused my tattoos to glow faintly. The taint couldn't have done damage – it was going to kill me if I didn't become a Warden, I understood that.

"Lysias, we're ready to start." Alistair brought me out of my thoughts and I nodded.

Daveth went first, and I took a step back and to the side, to see well. He was handed a chalice, presumably filled with the blood and he lifted it to his mouth and drank. For a moment, he looked perfectly fine, but then he staggered, clutching at his throat as a scream was pulled from his throat. I took a step back, but Alistair placed a hand behind my back to keep me from going far. The other rogue dropped to his knees gasping and grunting, he was dying, I realized, and bit at my lip, surprised that it wasn't bleeding at this point from all the chewing. Within moments, he was limp against the ground, pliant, and I sighed.

"Damn, and I actually liked him too. Guess things work out that way." I shrugged my shoulders and exhaled a deep breath. Being pessimistic wouldn't help.

Jory was next, but instead of stepping forward to receive the chalice, he stepped backwards, unsheathing his sword. I blinked slowly, shaking my head as I leaned down to examine Daveth's body. Poor guy, but I didn't care completely for him so I was only the slightest bit saddened about it.

"N-no, you ask too much! Had I known, I would have never-!"

I looked up watching the situation and I stood up straight, walking back over to where Alistair was standing. Before I was able to fully blink, Duncan had pulled out a dagger and had plunged it into Jory's abdomen. He gasped, hunching then, and when the dagger was pulled out, he collapsed to the ground.

"By the Maker's breath . . ." I whispered, blinking slowly. I didn't expect him to need to be killed – I didn't even think Jory had the taint.

Duncan approached me, handing me the chalice, and before I brought it to my lips, I looked at the dead bodies; Daveth and Jory. My heart felt as thought it would beat out of my chest, my mouth cottonish, and my thin legs quivering. I shook my head, raising the chalice to my lips, and letting the liquid run down my throat with quick swallows. It burned my throat, much more that the feeling of not feeding and my eyes watered at the feeling. I passed the chalice back.

My head swam and I felt dizzy, staggering and shifting as if I was in water – I couldn't swim well, honestly. The burning in my throat subsided, but my vision was obscured by darkness, then the image of a large dragon, covered in what looked like spikes instead of scales. Its eyes seemed to be focusing on my own, though I was not there to be seeing it. I was hallucinating; I figured that I had to be. It screeched, as if bothered by my presence, and when the image finally left me, I toppled over, meeting the ground and going unconscious.

It was dark in my dreams, and I was resting against something soft, and comfy, though bony, as if it were a person. I couldn't move, once again, and though I was staring into nothing but darkness, I knew my eyes were open in this dream because I could feel myself blinking. There was a cooing in my ear, soft, wordless, but comforting, and I felt a hand creep around my shoulder, even though it was going over armor.

"Who's there?" I felt glad that this time I could speak in my dream. Who was to say speaking would be helpful, however?

"Shh . . ." I heard the whisper, it was feminine, but had a masculine undertone.

It didn't take me too long to realize what was happening, but again I couldn't move, so I couldn't move away. I had to remain calm. Desire demons took over more than anything else, as I had more desires than anything else, but it, for the most part and in the recent partial possessions, it had been one specific demon.

"Why are you here? I'm not injured; I just fed. _What do you want?_" I grew irritated and I was pulled to standing, and turned to face the demon, the pinkish skin of her hand caressing my cheek, her eyes looking deep into mine, focusing, but it didn't bother me, and I didn't falter. I was used to her game. Her name was Euphoria, or Rapture, depending on the situation, and she was the demon that usually came to plague me. She claimed that she wanted to take care of me and make me happy, though that was what all demons claimed.

"You've been through so much, my dear," she whispered, her voice dancing about my senses, "you didn't want it, did you? I was so close to saving you, but you didn't let me. You fed on that man in the Wilds." She feigned sadness, placing the back of her hand to her own cheek and her eyes averted from my own.

"I have, but you aren't doing anything about it. You can't bring Tamlen back, you can't put me back in the clan—"

"And now do you know this, Lysias?" She seemed bothered by my words, though I knew she wasn't.

"You couldn't take me away from Alosio after the ritual the first time we met, why should I expect you to help me now." I managed to move my arm, and I took her hand from my face, lowering it to her side. Her skin was cold, yet extremely soft, almost to where I wanted to hold her hand just to stroke it with my fingers.

"You were newly transformed then," she smiled, or so it seemed, at me, "and now I could have enough power from you to do what ever you wish."

"No, Euphoria. I'll get through this own my own, alright. I don't need demonic help – I'm not even a mage. Every time you take over something bad happens." I turned away from her, and she followed, so that we still made eye contact.

"But you are still aware when it all happened, they were your own actions, I just helped you get closer to your desires." She smirked, leaning over to place a kiss again my cheek. I pulled away, disgusted by the feel of her frosted lips.

"In the worse way possible," I added, and her eyes narrowed at me, though I wasn't bothered by it much. "Was it you that brought me from the cave, Euphoria?"

There was a glint in her eyes and she circled around me, letting her hand wander about my shoulders and she moved, though her hand felt perverse though my armor, as if she wanted to remove it. She was silent for a while, just circling, looking me over, and then she stopped behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist.

"Yes my pet, I couldn't let you die in there, now could I?" I wanted to reply that she technically could have, but I stayed silent about that as the words weren't needed.

"Thank you . . ." I whispered, and she laughed. I was bothered, feeling her breasts against my back, but again, I said nothing about it.

"Don't thank me; I did it for my own purposes and you know that. You're going to wake up soon," she released me and started to step away, but then stopped and turned to glance at me again, "you know I'll be back, yes?

I nodded, a frown spreading on my lips as she vanished, I turned my head away and sighed. I didn't trust her, I couldn't if I wanted to, but there was something comforting about Euphoria that I couldn't help but admit.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

Spelling, grammar, blah blah blah.

I always notice my mistakes _after_ I post it.

Oh well. :)


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